


Always With You

by LittleDarkling



Category: The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:11:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDarkling/pseuds/LittleDarkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cougar and Jensen, PWP. A tiny, tiny smidgen of something that resembles angst or plot…ish. But mostly PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always With You

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters belong to Diggle, Jock, DC/Vertigo. I’m just playing with them. This is a work of fan love. No profit made, no infringement intended.
> 
> A/N: In case it wasn’t glaringly obvious, I am useless at titles and summaries. So…sorry about that. Also, please forgive any bad Spanish; I did the best I could with the translations.

 

 

   Jensen doesn’t know how exactly he gets himself into these shit situations. Well, that’s not true. He gets into these shit situations because he doesn’t always follow orders. But he was curious and Clay was being weirdly tight-lipped. Usually, he was more upfront about the Losers’ dealings, but this time there were a lot of quiet pow-wows going on with Pooch and Cougar, apart from Jensen. He hadn’t taken note at the time because his primary focus was tracking cash from a heroin shipment that had been funneled into multiple accounts belonging to one of Max’s associates. 

Almost four days with limited sleep…if brief naps while slumped over the keyboard counted as sleep. The money was particularly frustrating; someone had worked hard to make sure the trail was too convoluted to follow. They’d underestimated Jensen, but to their credit they had made him work for it. By the end, he was functioning on nothing more than adrenaline and caffeine. Clay and Pooch had tried to persuade him to rest, but when Jensen was on a roll, he would not be interrupted. Only Cougar had let him be, knowing any attempt to deter the hacker would end in blood. 

So, if something was going on that he wasn’t privy too, Jensen hadn’t noticed. After he finished, he had briefed Clay and then dragged himself off to bed. He had only a fuzzy recollection of being roused to drink a bottle of water and urged to eat. When he’d woken, groggy and feeling as though he had just come out of hibernation, he had a vague memory of a hand on his forehead, the scent of gunpowder and murmured Spanish.

 

 No matter where they were in the world, whenever he and Cougar shared a room, Jensen could open his eyes to the oddly comforting sight of the sniper perched on the windowsill, cradling his rifle to his chest, hat pulled low over his eyes. And Jensen liked having that little bit of familiarity amidst all of the chaos that seemed to dictate their lives. This time though, he had woken to an empty room, with the feeling that something was amiss. As it turned, something was missing. Specifically, _Cougar_ was missing. And Clay was being weird. 

 

He claimed he had sent Cougar out to do reconnaissance, but Clay rarely let them lone wolf it anymore. Roque was a festering wound and it seemed that Clay took their former teammate’s betrayal as a personal failure. So, it was rather unlikely to Jensen that he would send Cougar out alone. Then, as if it was some kind of fucking reward, he’d told Jensen to kick back for a few days. Relax, while he and Pooch followed up on a lead. He didn’t even bother to explain where Aisha was. Girl was a like a feral cat anyway, slinking in and out. 

 

Jensen never could leave well enough alone. When he questioned Clay about Cougar’s whereabouts again, the man repeated his previous explanation and stated that the sniper would be back in a few days. Clay’s tone made it clear enough there were to be no more questions. And Jensen could take a hint.

Of course, as soon as Clay and Pooch left, he set to work tracking down their missing sniper.

 

*

It wasn’t really difficult to find Cougar. He was tagged; he just didn’t know it. It was an experimental piece Jensen had been working on. Undetectable to even the most sensitive of tech and so subtle, he had managed to find a nice little spot for it on the inner brim of Cougar’s hat. Mind you, it wasn’t because Jensen was spying on him. He just couldn’t have the subject _know_ they were tagged and Cougar was the one least likely to kick his ass if he happened to find the piece. It still hadn’t been perfected though and once or twice the signal faded. But by day three, Jensen had narrowed down Cougar’s location to a within a five mile radius of what was mostly dense jungle. 

He hadn’t paused long enough to ask himself what Cougar might be doing here. Which…yeah, maybe he should have. The question was answered for him the moment he stumbled into the middle of what he had assumed was a small native village, only to find two hulking gunmen in front of him and a third at his back before he could take a step in retreat. Definitely not natives and judging by the tatts, these boys had spent some time in the Russian prison system. 

That is actually the short version of how he ended up here, on his knees, hands shackled and a gun barrel pressed to the back of his head. And there is no chance he’s going to be able to talk his way out of this. Blond haired, blue-eyed American boy and he is too deep in the jungle to play the lost tourist card. Also, he probably should have tucked in his dog tags…and remembered to bring a gun. 

He looks at the hard gray eyes of the first gunman and realizes they are going to shoot his ass. No questions asked. Shit. See, this is one of those situations where ‘oops’ comes to mind. Surprisingly, at this time, Jensen’s only thought is, _wow, Cougar’s gonna be so fucking pissed when he finds out he has to haul my dead ass back to Clay._ And then, he wants to laugh, because Cougar’s always telling him he could stand to eat a little more. To begin with, Jensen weighs more than he does and he has way more upper body strength. Well, he thinks he does; he’s never actually had to wrestle Cougar and so he’s mostly assuming. 

But that’s not the point. How funny is it that Cougar’s going to be eating those words when he has some one hundred and eighty-five pounds of dead Jensen weight dragging behind him?  The smirk falters, but it doesn’t disappear. He’s a big believer in going out with a grin.

He hears the click of the weapon behind him, feels more than hears the bullet enter the chamber, and he closes his eyes. Jensen has time to idly wonder whether he’ll feel it when the bullet enters his skull. How much will he be aware of before that little piece of finely crafted metal scrambles his brain? His _brilliant_ brain. And that is really what makes this whole situation such a shame. Jensen always kind of hoped, after he died, his brain would be preserved for future generations to study. Although he’s about to get shot in the head because he didn’t follow orders and went looking for their sniper without even basic intell and he didn’t bring his gun. So, maybe the brilliant part is debatable.

He almost doesn’t hear them, the three sharp pops that come in rapid succession, but suddenly the guards in front of him are folding into the dirt and the barrel of the gun pressed to his skull ruffles his hair as it slips from unresisting fingers. Jensen’s eyes snap open and he looks up to catch a brief glance of the brim of a blessedly familiar cowboy hat before he’s being tugged up, dragged off his knees.

“Run!” Cougar shouts, shoving him forward.

 The shackles weigh on Jensen’s hands, throwing his balance as he runs. His foot catches an upraised tree root and he pitches forward into the dirt. Cougar’s stride doesn’t falter, pausing only long enough to snag the chain that links the bands of the shackles.

“C’mon!” He tugs Jensen up a little more roughly than he intends, but they can’t stop. He can hear the sound of voices, shouting. There is gunfire, reckless and wild, striking tree trunks and shredding the leaves, torn bits of green raining down on them like confetti.

Jensen follows blindly after Cougar. The sniper is muttering under his breath as they move. Jensen has no clue where they’re going. The jungle seems to be closing in around them. There are places where the canopy is so thick that only slivers of sunlight slip through. The ground beneath their feet is soft and damp. Cougar seems to be retracing his steps, counting under his breath as they run. They finally manage to put some distance between themselves and their pursuers near the river. Cougar doesn’t say anything, but his pace slows slightly. 

Jensen hopes like hell the sniper has a plan, because he knows the odds of them being able to navigate the rough terrain, on foot with half a dozen gunmen chasing them, are shit. The humidity weighs them down, their clothes damp and heavy. Jensen’s already winded and his throat feels dry and sore. Four days without much sleep or nourishment and then three days traipsing around the jungle, his body is still trying to find a balance. He pauses, slumping against a tree to catch his breath.

“Hey, Cougar, where…um, not that I’m in any position to ask, but where are we going?” he huffs. 

The sniper turns to look at him and the flicker of impatience in his large brown eyes vanishes suddenly, his brow furrowing. He drops his pack and moves toward Jensen. The hacker starts to take a step back, but Cougar catches the shackles and tugs him forward. His hands rove over the younger man’s body, patting him down.

“Uh… Not that I don’t appreciate a little kink, but maybe now’s not the best—”

“Are you hit?” he asks sharply. Jensen shakes his head.

“What? No. No, Cougs…” The sniper looks at him skeptically. “I’m not hit. Just…” He flushes, embarrassed to admit he’s tired. Realization dawns on Cougar’s face and his expression softens. He digs a bottle of water from his pack and hands it to Jensen.

“Another few miles. I have a truck there.”

 

Cougar, thankfully, is the kind of guy who prepares for any eventuality. Apparently, that includes the possibility that his idiot hacker would disobey orders (again) and show up unarmed to a gunfight. The route the sniper chose, in the event he needed to make a hasty retreat, is unknown to the enemy and it would be difficult for any man with limited knowledge of this geography to track them. Damn near impossible for a group carrying multiple guns and no provisions. Cougar is a genius and Jensen loves him.

 

*

The drive into town is quiet. The radio plays softly, some generic pop song from the eighties. Jensen’s hands are still shackled, the chain heavy against his thighs. The silence is making him feel twitchy, but he doesn’t try to make conversation. Cougar is not saying anything and while that in itself is not unusual, Jensen’s fairly certain that he might not be the sniper’s favorite person at the moment. He is very well aware that his actions could have gotten them both killed.

Cougar pulls into a narrow alley between a bar and a warehouse. He leaves the keys on the dash and pushes open the door.

“Come,” he orders, waiting for Jensen to step out of truck before he strips off his jacket and throws it over the hacker’s hands.

“Where are we going?” Jensen asks as Cougar pushes him forward, an insistent hand on his shoulder.

“Hotel,” he replies simply. They leave the alley, heading down the main thoroughfare, which consists of a dusty, narrow road crowded with bikes, old cars, street vendors and children. 

“I fucked up,” he admits as they move through the crowd. “I really fucked up.”

 _“Sí_ ,” Cougar agrees.

“Cost you the intell?”

“I got what I needed.” His hand slips down to the middle of Jensen’s back, warm and possessive, urging him along. They’re both watching the streets. Jensen doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but it’s automatic. The glint of a gun, anyone watching too closely, too intently.

 “That’s good. I mean, no reason to think you wouldn’t. You’re Cougar. The Big Cat. Hey, you’re like a superhero. That could be your name. Big Cat. Mild-mannered sniper by day, dark avenger by night. What’s Spanish for dark avenger?” he blurts. 

When the older man fails to answer, he glances at him hesitantly. Cougar is watching him with an expression that could mean anything from ‘I think it might rain’ to ‘I’m going to cut your nuts off for this stupid stunt as soon as I find a knife dull enough’. Jensen’s gotten pretty good at translating Cougar non-speak, but there’s still a shit-ton more he’s trying to learn.

“I’m in deep shit, aren’t I?” he asks, with a wince. Cougar just lifts an eyebrow. “Right.” He sighs softly. “I-I should shut up now?” The sniper’s smile is faint beneath the shadow of the hat’s brim.

“No.”

 

The hotel is a nondescript building with no elevator, only a set of stained, cement steps. Cougar has secured a room on the top floor, facing the street. Jensen stands at the threshold, eyeing the room warily. Worn, faded blue carpet, stained in some places, patches of gray stone floor visible in others. The wall is whitewashed brick, which gives the small room a vaguely prison-like appearance. There’s a badly chipped bureau next to a rabbit-eared television mounted on a narrow, rickety table. A dingy mirror above the table with a cobweb of cracks in the right corner. The bed looks surprisingly comfy, with a yellow comforter dotted with bright red hibiscuses.

“Honeymoon suite?” Jensen can’t help asking over his shoulder. A gentle push inside and the slamming of the door is the only answer. The creak of the lock sliding into the place is ominous in a quiet broken only by the squeaky whir of the ceiling fan. 

“You know, Cougs—” he starts.  

Whatever he means to say is abruptly silenced as Cougar pushes him against the wall and plants his hands on either side of the hacker’s shoulders, boxing him in. This close the scent of sweat and heat, aftershave and grime mingle together to create an intoxicating musk. Jensen’s blue eyes never leave his, that mischievous smirk twitching to his full pale pink lips. 

“You planning on taking these off?” he asks, shaking the shackles gently. Cougar shakes his head, lips quirking. 

“No,” he murmurs. Adrenaline still potent in his veins and pinned by familiar dark eyes, Jensen’s only ever had two real responses, flirt or flight. And because it’s Cougar, Jensen just can’t help from being stupid.

“See, this is where you make me nervous, man. Clay yells at me when I fuck up. I know you don’t talk much anyway, but you can’t just do the dark stare thing and expect me to get it, cause I don’t get it.” The man continues to stare him down, eerily still. The tip of his ponytail rests over his left shoulder, distracting Jensen all to hell. 

“Aw, fuck’s sake, Cougar. Yell at me, punch me, knee me in the groin—no, wait, don’t knee me in the groin. Knee me…not in the groin. Just…do something. Please. I know I screwed up. I-I could have gotten you killed and I’m sorry—” Cougar drops forward abruptly and Jensen moves instinctively, pressing closer to the unyielding wall. Cougar’s nose brushes his cheek.

“ _You_ could have been killed. _Muerto_.” His voice is soft and low.

“I know.” Cougar’s so close and the scent of heat and gun oil and gunpowder, and too strong coffee and, god, just everything that makes him _Cougar_. _Carlos._ It’s too much. “This is probably the worst time to bring this up, but I’m so hard right now.” There’s a soft snort from the sniper.

“ _No sentido_ ,” he whispers ruefully.

“ _Sí_.” Jensen agrees. “Please. Cougar, please.” His leans in and after a moment’s hesitation, nuzzles against his partner’s cheek. Cougar doesn’t move to reciprocate.

“You disobeyed orders,” he says.

“I know. I just…he wouldn’t tell me where you were,” the hacker mumbles lamely.

“I asked him not to,” Cougar responds. “I didn’t want you distracted.” He smiles slightly. “I underestimated your stubborn curiosity.”

“Yeah.” Jensen’s fingers curl slightly in the sniper’s shirt, holding as tightly as he dares. For a time, they stand in silence with only the whir of the fan above them. Cougar exhales, a hot burst of air against his skin.

“I need you alive, Jake,” he murmurs finally. Jensen sighs, pressing his forehead into Cougar’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against the warm, rough cloth of the older man’s shirt. “ _Lo siento_. What can I do? Tell me.” Cougar raises his head, looking at the hacker. His hand moves from Jensen’s shoulder to brush against a cheek rough with two days of stubble. 

“You could stop being an idiot, but then you would not be you.” That makes Jensen grin big and bright and too damn pleased with himself. Because despite how it might sound to others, he knows Cougar well enough to hear the unspoken compliment there.

“See, you’re the only who appreciates my genius.” Cougar grunts and presses a quick, hard kiss to the younger man’s lips. Then he’s hooking the shackles and pulling Jensen toward the bed.

“Oh, going all caveman on me. Sure you don’t want to club me over the head?” At Cougar’s raised eyebrow, the hacker amends, “I meant in the nice foam bat, kinky sex game sort of way, not the way you’re thinking. You wouldn’t really bean me over the head with a club, would you?” Cougar doesn’t respond as he pulls Jensen around, walking him backwards. “Oh, c’mon, you love me.”

“ _Sí._ That doesn’t preclude me wanting to beat you over the head occasionally, _mi amor_.”

“Ah! Completely contradictory statement there, Cougs. You can’t threaten me and tell me you love me in the same sentence.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” Cougar raises an eyebrow again and Jensen is struck by how really freaking beautiful the guy is. 

“Fuck, you are gorgeous.” The sniper smiles and Jensen leans in to steal a kiss from those full lips.

“Hey, as long as we’re on the topic, how come we never role-play? Cause I have this fantasy where you’re Captain Hook and I’m Peter Pan—” Cougar is laughing when he covers Jensen’s mouth with his hand briefly before shoving him back. Jensen lands with a muffled grunt on the remarkably soft mattress. Cougar catches Jensen’s foot and begins to work on the laces of his boots.

“ _Idiota_ ,” he murmurs, tossing the shoes to the side before dragging Jensen’s jeans over his long legs. Unsurprisingly, the hacker is naked underneath. Cougar slides those long, gun-callused fingers up Jensen’s white thighs, pushing them apart. Not that he needs much urging. Jensen spreads his legs with an enthusiasm that makes a ghost of a smile come to Cougar’s lips. He murmurs something in Spanish, fondly.

“Now, I know that wasn’t complimentary,” Jensen mutters.

“Yeah?” Cougar asks, moving over his partner’s supine form. “How can you be sure?” Jensen groans as the sniper’s weight settles over him, the rough cloth of Cougar’s trousers rubs against his bare legs and hard cock.

“You called me a whore,” he rasps.

“I called you a slut,” he replies, lips brushing Jensen’s chin.

“Oh, well…that’s ok, then,” he mutters, wriggling his hips to get more of that delicious friction.

“That’s ok?” Cougar asks in amusement as he sucks soft bruises into the tender skin of the hacker’s throat.

“Well, a whore implies you paid me for my company….” Jensen moans softly as Cougar’s teeth scrape his jugular. “But since I—I’ve never charged you, I’m really more of a slut.” The words come in a breathy whisper.

 “Although there was that one time in Dakar, remember? You managed to get your hands on some chocolate chip cookies and that really good whiskey. I would have let you do pretty much anything to me.” Jensen looks at his partner, expression pensive. “Does putting out for cookies make me a whore?” Cougar’s laughter bursts out of him, a rush of hot air against Jensen’s skin.

“Do you ever stop talking?” he asks as he moves up and takes Jensen’s mouth in a kiss.

“I could charge you, though,” the hacker mumbles between kisses. “I am that good.”

“ _Silencio_. Now.” 

He reaches for the hem of Jensen’s shirt, gathering up the fabric and tugging. It’s not the easiest thing, working the sleeves over his shackled hands, but he is finally able to pull the shirt free and cast it aside. Cougar pauses to brush a reverent hand over the strong definition of Jensen’s body. Hard, tight, muscle beneath flushed, scarred skin. His thumb brushes the pale scar beneath his left pectoral. Libya, two years ago. A faint constellation of minor scars on his side. Colombia. Their first year as Losers. Cougar leans over him and kisses his collarbone. Jensen’s fingers slip beneath his shirt, tugging gently. The shackles brush the curve of Cougar’s hip.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “I get to see some skin, Cougs, or is this all one-sided?” Cougar lifts his head, smiling slightly. He slides off the bed, standing before Jensen. The hacker’s blue eyes are bright and sharp, watching hungrily. Cougar strips his shirt over his head and drops it at his feet before working open his belt and button-fly. 

The sniper’s body is slimmer than his, all sharp lines and lean muscle. His scars stand out, pale white against smooth chestnut skin. They know each other’s scars by heart, could map them in the dark. It is the story of their lives together, etched into flesh.  Cougar draws the band from his dark hair, running his fingers through to loosen the braid. Jensen sits up, grasping the waistband of the sniper’s pants.

 “Come here,” he murmurs, tugging him forward. His large hands curl around Cougar’s narrow hips. It always kind of amazes him, how very perfectly the sniper fits into his hands. He likes to think it is a sign—destiny or fate or whatever—that they were always meant for this, for each other. 

Cougar’s fingers stroke through his blond hair, dragging his fingernails gently over the younger man’s scalp. Jensen presses his lips to the patch of skin just above the older man’s navel. He’s oddly fascinated by that spot. It helps that Cougar’s muscles do this little fluttery thing whenever he kisses or nuzzles at it.

“Jake…” Cougar breathes, fingers clenching gently in his hair. Jensen grins and scrapes his teeth across his sniper’s skin as he pushes pants and boxers down. 

“I missed you,” Jensen breathes almost reverently and he stares, unabashed. Slender and long limbed, graceful and sleek and dangerous. Naked, this man is art made flesh.

“Cougar…” he murmurs. Cougar’s fingers brush his cheek. The hacker catches his hand, pressing a soft kiss to the palm. 

“C’mon,” he murmurs as he scoots back.

As soon as Jensen is settled Cougar joins him, covering the younger man’s body with his own. They both groan as their cocks slide slickly together. Jensen wraps one leg high on Cougar’s waist, tugging him closer. He licks at Cougar’s mouth, grinning at the low moan that rumbles out of him.

“The Big Cat purrs like a kitten.” The comment earns him a soft chuckle and a sharp nip in reprimand. Jensen whimpers when Cougar grinds downward, hot, perfect friction. “Oh, yeah...” 

His teeth scrape at the sniper’s bottom lip and Cougar catches the younger man’s mouth in a hungry kiss, curling his tongue around Jensen’s. His hand slides down between their bodies to grasp both his and Jensen’s cocks. The hacker’s hips buck sharply, a soft mewl of protest muffled by the kiss.

“W-wait,” he gasps, tugging his mouth from Cougar’s. The sniper makes a sound of discontent when Jensen abruptly pulls away and attempts to sit up.

“Mmmm, wait,” he insists, pushing at the sniper’s chest and tries to reach for his jeans, which are hanging off the bed and threatening to slip. Cougar hooks the waistband and draws them back, handing them to the younger man. His hands move restlessly over the Jensen’s thighs, growling lowly in displeasure.

“Patience, grasshopper,” the hacker murmurs, kissing Cougar’s nose before rummaging about in the pockets. There is a soft, triumphant whoop when his fingers close on something and draw it out. The older man ducks as the jeans go flying sideways, smacking against the wall. Jensen falls back on the bed and holds up two familiar, discreet packets. Cougar arches an eyebrow.

“Well, I knew I’d find you eventually,” Jensen explains. “And I wanted to be prepared.” Cougar gives him an incredulous look that reads, ‘ _These_ you remembered, but not your sidearm?’ The sniper shakes his head. Jensen has sense enough to look sheepish.

“I was distracted,” he admits. Cougar snatches the packets from his hand.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asks softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of Jensen’s mouth.

“You can shoot me later,” the hacker offers diplomatically. “But right now, I was kinda of hoping you’d fuck me.” Cougar looks at him contemplatively, as though he might be considering it.

“Um, fucking first. Then shooting. I should have a last request—” Cougar fits his mouth over the younger man’s, effectively silencing him.

 

Jensen lies back, panting as Cougar coats his fingers and slips one deep inside him. He squirms, gasping at the intrusion. The sound that leaves his throat is one of relief.

“God, yeah, Carlos…” he rasps. The sniper pushes another finger in beside the first and Jensen hisses at the pleasurable burn. Cougar enjoys this, watching him come apart. Jensen _craves_ physical contact, a need that is almost akin to addiction. 

Cougar discovered early on just how sensitive the younger man is to touch and how easily overstimulated. He brushes his thumb gently along the place where Jensen is stretched around his fingers and the hacker mewls.

“A-another,” he gasps and exhales a sharp breath as a third long finger presses inside him. 

“Look at me, Jake,” Cougar says. 

Jensen manages to drags his eyes open and he has to bite his lip hard against the hot rush of arousal. Cougar’s tanned skin gleams with a thin sheen of sweat, his hair sticking to his shoulders and throat. The feel of Cougar’s fingers moving inside him, and the sniper’s half-lidded hungry gaze upon him are nearly enough to make him come. Jensen’s restraint has never been that good.

“Ahh. God, Carlos,” he murmurs. “Please.” Cougar twists his fingers sharply, just enough pressure to make an enticing sliver of pain pierce the pleasure. Jensen moans, back arching as calloused digits find the sweet spot. “Right there. Right there.” 

Whenever they are like this, he cannot help himself from imaging the many times he has seen Cougar’s long, elegant fingers working over his rifle. Cleaning his guns. Sliding over the barrel of his sidearm. Curling around the trigger. The sniper is hovering over him, watching him intently. He clenches around Cougar’s fingers and grins when it earns him a sharp, low growl.

“Something wrong, Big Cat?” he asks. Jensen loves this part, almost as much the actual sex. Cougar is skilled and precise in everything he does, everything he touches. Having all of the sniper’s unwavering attention turned on him is a special pleasure. Cougar withdraws his fingers slowly, a deliberate drag that makes his thighs tremble.

Jensen is panting his name, like a mantra, over and over. Cougar smiles wickedly down at the hacker as he moves in, hovering over him.

“ _Que_?” he whispers. “What is it, _mi sol?_ ”Jensen groans, lifting his head up at an awkward, nearly painful angle to find Cougar’s mouth with his, kiss him hungry and desperate. He wraps his legs around his partner’s lean hips.

“C’mon!” he grunts. Cougar smiles and moves in, his cock pressing gently against Jensen’s sensitive entrance. The hacker squirms, anxious.

“Cougar, please…” he rasps. Cougar presses a soft kiss to the younger man’s chin and pushes in, lifting Jensen hips off the mattress with force of the movement. The hacker wails and the shackles rattle noisily as he tugs them.

“Fuck!” Stretched wide, his entire body shaking and only Cougar’s hands keeping him pinioned. His body and mind focused on this, only on this. On Cougar, on the scent of his sweat and his skin, the feel of his cock dragging slowly from his body. He feels the head of Cougar’s cock catch on his rim before pushing back in and he chokes out a sob. 

Cougar murmurs in Spanish as he fucks Jensen leisurely, ignoring the hacker’s impatient mewling as he works himself deep within the younger man’s body. Slow, maddeningly slow. Jensen sobs in frustration, turning his face into the pillow. It’s not nearly enough for either of them. Cougar leans over him, dragging his tongue over the hacker’s cheek. Jensen turns his head, catching the older man’s mouth into a desperate kiss. He clenches around Cougar’s cock, trying to urge him to move. The sniper ignores him, biting gently at his chin.

“Please, fucking please…” the hacker whimpers.

Cougar draws out, leaving Jensen’s body gaping and empty. He sits back, panting softly. Sweat trickles down his arms and chest, drips onto Jensen’s drenched, flushed body. The hacker rubs a hand over his face.

“Oh, god, Cougar…what are you doing to me?” he whines softly. He opens his eyes to find Cougar looking down at him, watching, waiting. He doesn’t speak, just stares at Jensen hungrily, unabashed. He never hides from Jensen; he allows the hacker to see everything. How much he is desired, wanted, loved. Cougar’s muscled torso heaves with each heavy, panting breath as he looks over Jensen’s shaking form. Flushed, damp skin. Taut, trembling thighs. Hard, bobbing cock. And Jensen can’t resist spreading his legs further apart to give Cougar a greater view of the place he wants him. Where he is slick and empty.

“Cougar…” The sniper’s hand seizes his shoulder, flipping him onto his stomach. Boneless and wrecked, Jensen can only comply. Cougar tugs him onto his knees, pulling the hacker against his chest and slams in again. Jensen’s cry shakes the walls. This time there is no teasing. Cougar fucks him roughly, finding the exact angle he needs to turn his hacker into a trembling mess in his arms. 

 “Yeah…” Jensen exhales a groan, clutching at Cougar’s arm, where it is braced across his chest. The metal of the shackles, warmed by the heat of their bodies, presses against his skin. Jensen turns his head, catching Cougar’s lips with his own. The kiss is sloppy and wet; Jensen’s sleek tongue leaves smears of saliva on his chin.

Cougar’s thrusts are hard and deep, Jensen’s body shuddering with each stroke. It is too much and not enough. His stomach tightens, tendrils of heat curling in his belly. Cougar’s hand encircles his cock, rough calluses catching on sensitive skin. He buries his nose into the soft, damp curls at the base of Jensen’s skull, breathes in the scent of sweat and musky odor of sex. Bites gently, smiling at the whisper of want the action inspires, the way Jensen’s cock twitches in his hand. He’s close, the dizzy elation of orgasm sweeping over him. He jerks the hacker roughly, thumbing the head of his cock.

“Come for me,” he whispers. And Jensen does, gasping and shaking as he spills over the Cougar’s fist. His body clenches tight around Cougar’s cock and the sniper groans, nipping Jensen’s shoulder at the sharp shock of overstimulation. He comes with a growl, hips jerking in a series of rough, jabbing thrusts that draw a low moan from the hacker. 

They stay like that for a moment, enjoying the fading high of orgasm. The room is thick with the scent of sweat, heat and sex. Jensen’s hand still clutches at Cougar’s arm. The sniper’s teeth have left a bright pink indentation in the younger man’s pale skin.  Jensen’s head is still tilted back against his shoulder. Cougar presses a soft kiss to his cheek before gently releasing him.

“I love you,” Jensen mumbles dazedly as he falls back on the bed in a sweaty, long-limbed tangle. 

They will have to get a shower later, but for now they have no desire to leave the room. Cougar gets rid of the condom and retrieves two bottles of water and a few tissues from his pack before returning to bed. They clean themselves up and polish off the water in a few gulps.

“So, Cougs, mind getting me out of these, now?” Jensen asks, raising his shackled hands. The sniper nods, but doesn’t move. The younger man frowns slightly. 

“Dude, the key?” Cougar works his tongue around his mouth and the key slips from between his lips. Jensen laughs incredulously, reaching up to take the small piece of metal from the sniper’s mouth. “I don’t even want to know how you did that.” 

Cougar lays his head on the pillow, hand sliding over Jensen’s hip as he watches the younger man unlock himself. The metal bands finally clink open and Jensen tosses them over the side of the bed. They clatter loudly against the thin carpet. Cougar takes the hacker’s wrists in his hand, thumb stroking along the faint bands of red left behind. He curls a hand around Jensen’s jaw, presses soft kisses to the younger man’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheek and his lips.

“ _Mi amor. Mi vida,_ ” he murmurs. “ _Mi sol_.”  Jensen purrs, thriving under Cougar’s attentions.

“ _Te amo_ ,” he replies. Cougar settles on his back and closes his eyes, drifting on the soundtrack of the street outside, the whir of the ceiling fan and Jensen’s breathing. The younger man is quiet for now, sated and content with Cougar steady and safe beside him. 

His hand rests on Jensen’s forearm, thumb rubbing warm circles over the muscle. It feels nice, comforting. The hacker’s chin rests on his sternum, fingers stroking idly over the lines of Cougar’s ribs. His strong, thick body is pressed all along the sniper’s leaner one. Cougar moves his hand to Jensen’s hair, carding his fingers through the sweat-stiffened blond spikes. 

There was a time, in moments like these, Jensen would talk about life after the Losers, about a house in New Hampshire and coaching his niece’s soccer team and all the mad money he and Cougar could make doing private security for local businesses. The unspoken invitation, the space Jensen was already making for Cougar in the rest of his life. He doesn’t say things like that so much anymore, after Al-Ghozar, because that future is no longer certain. 

His silences now are more contemplative, a little sad, but Jensen’s optimism has never been so easily extinguished. There are still occasions, when he thinks the sniper is asleep, that he’ll talk about the house and how he wants a massive kitchen, so Cougar can cook. It’s an undisputed fact that Cougar is their best chef. 

Pooch can make chicken soup—and that’s all he can make. Clay’s idea of breakfast is black coffee and toast. Jensen’s attempts grand culinary masterpieces, but he has yet to master how to boil an egg properly. And Aisha would likely cut off their balls if they even asked. That meant whenever they had time for a real meal, it was usually Cougar who did the cooking. So, a big kitchen is a must, according to Jensen’s post-coital ramblings. 

They’ll have a hybrid car. Definitely not an SUV and Jensen will kick his ass if Cougar even _mentions_ an SUV. He usually then goes on to extol the virtues of the hybrid and Cougar almost ends up put to sleep again by the lengthy disjointed lecture on why SUVs are evil. Their house will have an extra room for when Emma comes to visit and an extra room for…just in case. Just in case. Just in case they ever need a nursery or a room for another little one that looks like him or like Jensen.

There was a time that Cougar didn’t imagine a life beyond the military, beyond the Special Forces. In all likelihood, he would die as a solider. And that was fine. Even after he met Jensen, even after their relationship became…complicated, Cougar was fairly set in his fatalistic view. 

It was a gradual shift, when he started to think of life not in hours or days, but in weeks, years. In holidays and birthdays not spent in a sniper’s nest in the hills of Afghanistan, a Ukrainian prison or a cold military barracks. These days he imagines a stretch of unwritten future where he is no a longer a solider, but exists still. The one constant, the one lingering warm presence in all that is unknown and uncertain is this brilliant, beautiful genius hacker. Jensen shifts, pressing a soft kiss to sweat-damp skin under his head, his fingers curling lightly in Cougar’s dog tags.

“Clay is going to fucking kick my ass,” he says suddenly. Cougar’s chuckle is more movement than sound.

“ _Sí,_ ” he agrees.

 

End

 


End file.
